Parthian Empire Overrun by Amethyst Obsession Sparking Purple Wars and Quirky Devotion

Of all the things to stumble upon during a casual time jump, a civilization built on the back of purple quartz has got to be one of the more baffling highlights of my folio. The city of Hecatompylos sparkles so much it almost seems alive—a mirage of violet hues shimmering across the desert landscape. As I approached the gates, even the guards flaunted sandals and helmets accented with polished amethysts. It was as if someone had smashed open a jewelry store and gone mad with a glue pot. If you've ever wondered what an empire would look like if the concept of money was literally *rock solid*, let me assure you, it’s both mesmerizing and ridiculous. I learned very quickly not to look down while walking—tripping over an amethyst-encrusted bench reminds you that being hit by luxury still hurts.

The locals believe amethyst carries divine properties, treating it as fragments of Ahura Mazda’s wisdom. One priest I spoke to, draped head-to-toe in purple robes (naturally), eagerly described how the gemstones are said to channel cosmic insight into the wearer. I refrained from pointing out the priests' tendency to squint dramatically at the horizon whenever asked tough questions, a habit I observed during religious ceremonies. It’s less about divine revelation and more about strategic stalling, I suspect. The rituals are quite the spectacle, involving elaborate dances where participants skirt dangerously close to heavy amethyst mosaics inlaid in the temple floors. In one instance, I winced as a dancer accidentally chipped a smaller, less intensely hued stone while spinning. The onlookers gasped as if they had just witnessed a sacrilege. Considering how mundane amethyst feels in other timelines, the level of sheer reverence here is enough to give me secondhand awe-fatigue.

Even the average citizens are swept up in the gemstone craze. Amethyst isn’t just for the elite—it’s everywhere. Farmers wear amethyst-studded belts while inspecting their fields, and children gamble with little purple chips instead of stones. It’s hard to tell when wealth becomes meaningless, but somehow this world has managed to wander comfortably past that threshold. A fruit-seller I encountered was absentmindedly tossing amethyst shards into the dust while haggling with a customer over dates. When I asked him why he didn’t keep the shards, he gave me a look that made me feel the absurdity of my own question. “It’s just purple rock,” he quipped, waving me off. And yet, everyone simultaneously insists it’s divine. It’s a theological paradox that seems to bother no one here, yet keeps me awake at night.

The quarries are another sight to behold. I arrived at sunrise to witness workers singing harmonic chants as they descended into the glittering mines. Their choreography was so precise it appeared rehearsed, each worker knowing precisely when to chisel, when to strike, and when to pause for another chorus. The tools they use are equally ornate, with everything from chisels to carrying sacks heavily adorned with—what else?—amethysts. The overseer, an almost impossibly jubilant man named Behrouz, explained that treating the tools with such reverence was expected, as “even the act of mining must bring honor to the stone.” I wanted to ask if maybe they should spend some of that energy on basic safety—several workers were perched precariously on violet cliffs—but I suspected my commonsense critique wouldn’t resonate here.

What struck me most was the striking lack of traditional infrastructure. Roads are haphazardly maintained, and some aqueducts I passed were half-finished, abandoned in favor of new gem-related projects. One merchant confided (or rather, ranted) to me that the focus on amethyst has left the economy stagnant; with so many people hoarding gemstones, there’s very little actual trade. “Everyone’s rich, and yet no one has anything,” he told me, gesturing to a cart filled with lavishly crafted but utterly useless objects, each adorned with purple. He seemed baffled when I suggested trading for something practical, like food.

Oddly, despite amethyst’s omnipresence, some Parthians are already rebelling against what they view as “purple fatigue.” Younger generations, in particular, are turning away from what they describe as an “obsessively gaudy” cultural touchstone. I overheard a young woman proudly showing off a necklace made of simple river stones—not ugly, per se, but shockingly plain compared to all the glitter around us. “True wealth,” she told me firmly, “is found in restraint.” When I asked if this movement was growing, she pointed me to a fledgling “Plainstone Society,” a group advocating for the use of cheaper, simpler materials in daily life. I admit, there’s something both absurd and poetic about a counterculture driven by the refusal to sparkle.